Harry Potter and the Extra Playing Piece
by ViolinElectrician
Summary: It's Harry Potter's second year. I know you're expecting things to go the way they go in the books. That's what Alvane Matthews was expecting. Until she became a factor in the story.  WILL BE REVISING & REPOSTING!
1. Disclaimer

**Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, nor will I ever, own Harry Potter. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling for the canon characters and events. It's a FanFiction, and only that. Also, I have used J.K. Rowling's actual first chapter of Chamber of Secrets as my first chapter, but no more chapters after that will be used. I had to use it because of certain reasons that I will explain later if you ask me. **


	2. Touch Down

**Nor for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken in the early hours of the morning by a loud, hooting noise from his nephew Harry's room.**

**"Third time this week!" he roared across the table. "If you can't control that owl, it'll have to go!"**

**Harry tried, yet again, to explain. **

**She's **_**bored**_**," he said. "She's used to flying around outside. If I could just let her out at night—"**

**"Do I look stupid?" snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of friend egg dangling from his bushy mustache. "I know what'll happen if that owl's let out." **

**He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia.**

**Harry tried to argue back but his words were drowned by a long, loud belch from the Dursleys' son, Dudley.**

"**I want more bacon."**

"**There's more in the frying pan, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia, turning misty eyes on her massive son. "We must build you up while we've got the chance... I don't like the sound of that school food…."**

"**Nonsense, Petunia, I never went hungry when **_**I**_** was at Smeltings," said Uncle Vernon heartily. "Dudly gets enough, don't you son?"**

**Dudley, who was so large his bottom drooped over either side of the kitchen chair, grinned and turned to Harry.**

"**Pass the frying pan."**

"**You've forgotten the magic word," said Harry irritably. **

**The effect of this simple sentence on the rest of the family was incredible: Dudley gasped and fell off his chair with a crash that shook the whole kitchen; Mrs. Dursley gave a small scream and clapped her hands to her mouth; Mr. Dursley jumped to his feet, veins throbbing in his temples.**

"**I meant 'please'!" said Harry quickly. "I didn't mean—"**

"**WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU," thundered his uncle, spraying spit over the table, "ABOUT SAYING THE 'M' WORD IN OUR HOUSE?"**

"**But I—"**

"**HOW DARE YOU THREATEN DUDLEY!" roared Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his fist.**

"**I just—"**

"**I WARNED YOU! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTION OF YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!"**

**Harry stared from his purple-faced uncle to his pale aunt, who was trying to heave Dudley to his feet. **

"**All right," said Harry, "**_**all right…**_**"**

**Uncle Vernon sat back down, breathing like a winded rhinoceros and watching Harry closely out of the corners of his small, sharp eyes. **

**Ever since Harry had come home for the summer holidays, Uncle Vernon had been treating him like a bomb that might go off at any moment, because Harry Potter **_**wasn't **_**a normal boy. As a matter of fact, he was as not normal as it is possible to be.**

**Harry Potter was a wizard—a wizard fresh from his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And if the Dursleys were unhappy to have him back for the holidays, it was nothing to how Harry felt.**

**He missed Hogwarts so much it was like having a constant stomachache. He missed the castle, with its secret passageways and ghosts, his classes (though perhaps not Snape, the Potions master), the mail arriving by owl, eating banquets in the Great Hall, sleeping in his four-poster bed in the tower dormitory, visiting the gamekeeper, Hagrid, in his cabin next to the Forbidden Forest in the grounds, and, especially, Quidditch, the most popular sport in the wizarding world (six tall goal posts, four flying balls, and fourteen players on broomsticks).**

**All Harry's spellbooks, his wand, robes, cauldron, and top-of-the-line Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick had been locked in a cupboard under the stairs by Uncle Vernon the instant Harry had come home. What did the Dursleys care if Harry lost his place on the House Quidditch team because he hadn't practiced all summer? What was it to the Dursleys if Harry went back to school without any of his homework done? The Dursleys were what wizards called Muggles (not a drop of magical blood in their veins), and as far as they were concerned, having a wizard in the family was a matter of deepest shame. Uncle Vernon had even padlocked Harry's owl, Hedwig, inside her cage, to stop her from carrying messages to anyone in the wizarding world. **

**Harry looked nothing like the rest of the family. Uncle Vernon was large and neckless, with an enormous black mustache; Aunt Petunia was horse-faced and bony; Dudley was blond, pink, and porky. Harry, on the other h and, was small and skinny, with brilliant green eyes and jet-black hair that was always untidy. He wore round glasses, and on his forehead was a thin, lightning shaped scar. **

**It was this scar that made Harry so particularly unusual, even for a wizard. This scar was the only hint of Harry's very mysterious past, of the reason he had been left on the Dursleys' doorstep eleven years before. **

**At the age of one year old, Harry had somehow survived a curse from the greatest Dark sorcerer of all time, Lord Voldemort, whose name most witches and wizards still feared to speak. Harry's parents had died in Voldemort's attack, but Harry had escaped with his lightning scar, and somehow—nobody understood why—Voldemort's powers had been destroyed the instant he had failed to kill Harry. So Harry had been brought up by his dead mother's sister and her husband. He had spent ten years with the Dursleys, never understanding why he kept making odd things happen without meaning to, believing the Dursleys' story that he had got his scar in the car crash that killed his parents.**

**And then, exactly a year ago, Hogwarts had written to Harry, and the whole story had come out. Harry had taken up his place at wizard school, where he and his scar were famous… but now, the school year was over, and he was back with the Dursleys for the summer, back to being treated like a dog that had rolled in something smelly.**

**The Dursleys hadn't even remembered that today happened to be Harry's twelfth birthday. Of course, his hopes hadn't been high; they'd never given him a real present, let alone a cake—but to ignore it completely…**

**At that moment, Uncle Vernon cleared his throat importantly and said, "Now, as we all know, today is a very important day."**

**Harry looked up, hardly daring to believe it.**

"**This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career," said Uncle Vernon.**

**Harry went back to his toast. **_**Of course, **_**he thought bitterly. **_**Uncle Vernon was talking about the stupid dinner party.**_** He'd been talking of nothing else for two weeks. Some rich builder and his wife were coming to dinner and Uncle Vernon was hoping to get a huge order from him (Uncle Vernon's company made drills).**

"**I think we should run through the schedule one more time," said Uncle Vernon. "We should all be in position at eight o'clock. Petunia, you will be—?"**

"**In the lounge," said Aunt Petunia promptly, "waiting to welcome them graciously to our home."**

"**Good, good. And Dudley?"**

"**I'll be waiting to open the door." Dudley put on a foul, simpering smile. "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"**

"**They'll **_**love**_** him!" cried Aunt Petunia rapturously.**

"**Excellent, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon. Then he rounded on Harry. "And **_**you**_**?"**

"**I'll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry tonelessly.**

"**Exactly," said Uncle Vernon nastily. "I will lead them into the lounge, introduce you, Petunia, and pour them drinks. At eight fifteen—"**

"**I'll announce dinner," said Aunt Petunia.**

"**And, Dudley, you'll say—"**

"**May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?" said Dudley, offering his fat arm to an invisible woman.**

"**My perfect little gentleman!" sniffed Aunt Petunia.**

"**And **_**you**_**?" said Uncle Vernon viciously to Harry.**

"**I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry dully.**

"**Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?"**

"**Vernon tells me you're a **_**wonderful**_** golfer, Mr. Mason… **_**Do**_** tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason…"**

"**Perfect… Dudley?"**

"**How about—'We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and **_**I **_**wrote about **_**you**_**."**

**This was too much for both Aunt Petunia and Harry. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and hugged her son, while Harry ducked under the table so they wouldn't see him laughing. **

"**And you, boy?"**

**Harry fought to keep his face straight as he emerged.**

"**I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," he said. **

"**Too right, you will," said Uncle Vernon forcefully. "The Masons don't know anything about you and it's going to stay that way. When dinner's over, you take Mrs. Mason back to the lounge for coffee, Petunia, and I'll bring the subject around to drills. With any luck, I'll have the deal signed and sealed before the news at ten. We'll be shopping for a vacation home in Majorca this time tomorrow."**

**Harry couldn't feel too excited about this. He didn't think the Dursleys would like him any better in Majorca than they did on Privet Drive. **

"**Right—I'm off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Dudley and me. And **_**you**_**," he snarled at Harry. "You stay out of your aunt's way while she's cleaning."**

**Harry left through the back door. It was a brilliant, sunny day. He crossed the lawn, slumped down on the garden bench, and sang under his breath:**

"**Happy birthday to me… happy birthday to me…"**

**No cards, no presents, and he would be spending the evening pretending not to exist. He gazed miserably into the hedge. He had never felt so lonely. More than anything else at Hogwarts, more even than playing Quidditch, Harry missed is best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They, however, didn't seem to be missing him at all. Neither of them had written to him all summer, even though Ron had said he was going to ask Harry to come and stay. **

**Countless times, Harry had been on the point of unlocking Hedwig's cage by magic and sending her to Ron and Hermione with a letter, but it wasn't worth the risk. Underage wizards weren't allowed to use magic outside of school. Harry hadn't told the Dursleys this; he knew it was only their terror that he might turn them all into dung beetles that stopped them from locking **_**him**_** in the cupboard under the stairs with his wand and broomstick. For the first couple of weeks back, Harry had enjoyed muttering nonsense words under his breath and watching Dudley tearing out of the room as fast as his fat legs would carry him. But the long silence from Ron and Hermione had made Harry feel so cut off from the magical world that even taunting Dudley had lost its appeal—and now Ron and Hermione had forgotten his birthday.**

**What wouldn't he give now for a message from Hogwarts? From any witch or wizard? He'd almost be glad of a sight of his archenemy, Draco Malfoy, just to be sure it hadn't all been a dream….**

**Not that his whole year at Hogwarts had been fun. At the very end of last term, Harry had come face-to-face with none other than Lord Voldemort himself. Voldemort might be a ruin of his former self, but he was still terrifying, still cunning, still determined to regain power. Harry had slipped through Voldemort's clutches for a second time, but it had been a narrow escape, and even now, weeks later, Harry kept waking up in the night, drenched in cold sweat, wondering where Voldemort was now, remembering his livid face, his wide, mad eyes—**

**Harry suddenly sat bolt upright on the garden bench. He had been staring absent-mindedly into the hedge—**_**and the hedge was staring back**_**. Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.**

**Harry jumped to his feet just as a jeering voice floated across the lawn. **

"**I know what day it is," sang Dudley, waddling toward him. **

**The huge eyes blinked and vanished. **

"**What?" said Harry, not taking his eyes off the spot where they had been.**

"**I know what day it is," Dudley repeated, coming right up to him.**

"**Well done," said Harry. "So you've finally learned the days of the week."**

"**Today's your **_**birthday,**_**" sneered Dudley. "How come you haven't got any cards? Haven't you even got friends at that freak place?"**

"**Better not let your mum hear you talking about my school," said Harry coolly. **

**Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat bottom. **

"**Why're you staring at the hedge?" he said suspiciously.**

"**I'm trying to decide what would be the best spell to set it on fire," said Harry.**

**Dudley stumbled backward at once, a look of panic on his fat face.**

"**You c-can't—Dad told you you're not to do m-magic—he said he'll chuck you out of the house—and you haven't got anywhere else to go—you haven't got any **_**friends **_**to take you—"**

"_**Jiggery pokery!**_**" said Harry in a fierce voice. "**_**Hocus pocus—squiggly wiggly—**_**"**

"**MUUUUUUM!" howled Dudley, tripping over his feet as he dashed back toward the house. "MUUUUM! He's doing you know what!"**

**Harry paid dearly for his moment of fun, as neither Dudley nor the hedge was in any way hurt, Aunt Petunia knew he hadn't really done magic, but he still had to duck as she aimed a heavy blow at his head with the soapy frying pan. Then she gave him work to do, with the promise he wouldn't eat again until he'd finished. **

**While Dudley lolled around watching and eating ice cream, Harry cleaned the windows, washed the car, mowed the lawn, trimmed the flowerbeds, pruned and watered the roses, and repainted the garden bench. The sun blazed overhead, burning the back of his neck. Harry knew he shouldn't have risen to Dudley's bait, but Dudley had said the very thing Harry had been thinking himself… maybe he **_**didn't**_** have any friends at Hogwarts….**

_**Wish they could see famous Harry Potter now,**_** he thought savagely as he spread manure on the flower beds, his back aching, sweat running down his face. **

**It was half past seven in the evening when at last, exhausted, he heard Aunt Petunia calling him.**

"**Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!"**

**Harry moved gladly into the shade of the gleaming kitchen. On top of the fridge stood tonight's pudding: a huge mound of whipped cream and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven. **

"**Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!" snapped Aunt Petunia, pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen table. She was already wearing a salmon-pink cocktail dress. **

**Harry washed his hands and bolted down his pitiful supper. The moment he had finished, Aunt Petunia whisked away his plate. "Upstairs! Hurry!" **

**As he passed the door to the living room, Harry caught a glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in bow ties and dinner jackets. He had only just reached the upstairs landing when the doorbell rang and Uncle Vernon's furious face appeared at the foot of the stairs. **

"**Remember, boy—one sound—"**

**Harry crossed to his bedroom on tiptoe, slipped inside, closed the door, and turned to collapse on his bed. The trouble was, there was already someone sitting on it.**

"Al, Al!"

I looked up from my book and sighed. I gave my brother an icy glare.

"I'm _reading_," I told him… As if he couldn't tell.

"Yeah, but look what I did!" he said, holding up some weird Lego thing. It was kind of a multicolored blob.

"Um, that's nice… What is it supposed to be?"

"It's an _alien ship_, what else is it supposed to be?"

"Shouldn't there be a gun, Sam?"

"Yeah, it's right here!" He pointed to a part of the 'ship.' He then continued with, "There's also one here, and here, and here, and here, and… uh, one here too!" I looked at him awkwardly, wondering what I was supposed to say about the guns I couldn't see.

"Aw, Sam, that's so cool!" I gawked. It was fake, but he was 8; what was I supposed to say? 'No. I really don't get it.' He didn't notice. I turned back to my book and he raced out, no doubt to add more 'guns.' I looked up once more, to tell him not to call me 'Al,' but he was gone. I tried once again to read, when an instant message popped up on my computer screen. I looked at it, wondering if I was _ever_ going to finish that book. Of course, I had read it about six times, along with the rest of the Harry Potter books. Well, since I was starting from the beginning, I had read _The Philosopher's Stone_ seven times. You know, if you want to get technical about it. I trudged to the computer letting out an exaggerated sigh, but plopped down into the chair not really caring.

_**AmyX3Franklin: **__Al, have you done the math homework?_

What was with people calling me 'Al' today? Was this, 'Call-Someone-By-A-Name-That-Isn't-Their-Name Day?'

_**AlvaneTheRuler:**__Not yet._

_**AmyX3Franklin: **__Are you reading Harry Potter again?_

_**AlvaneTheRuler: **__Not really._

It wasn't a lie. I had read all of two words in between interruptions. Okay, that isn't entirely true, but one chapter of a book was the equivalent of two words to me. I loved reading. I rolled my head, my neck suddenly feeling weird. I jerked it sideways until I heard a satisfying pop. It was then that I decided to do the rude thing. I ignored Amy and strolled back to my bed. I began reading again. It was weird though, because the further I got into the book, I could've sworn I saw the letters start changing colors. By the time I got through five chapters, I was no longer reading the words, but looking to see what color they would be next. I touched the text and decided it was time to set the book aside. It was only twelve a.m. but when your book starts changing colors, I think it's a signal that you need to sleep. I shut the book without a bookmark, because, considering I had read almost none of the words after the third chapter, I would have to start back at the first one anyway.

I never did finish that book.

I stood up from my bed to go brush my teeth. I walked towards the door, rubbing my eyes. I took my first step out of the door, expecting to touch down on land, like you normally do when you take a step. The floor never came. I just kept falling and falling until I realized what was happening. I opened my mouth to scream, but the wind whipping past my ears drowned out the sound. I turned over so that I wouldn't land face down, even though I was falling so fast it wouldn't have mattered anyway. I was going to die. I began to pass out, from shock no doubt, and luckily, everything went black before I hit the ground.


	3. Confrontation

"_Where did she come from, Albus?"_

I heard voices in the darkness.

"_I'm afraid, Madam Pomfrey, that I do not know. She just fell from the sky."_

"_Why, how far? Poor dear, she's lucky to be alive," _a woman's voice said.

"_Yes, but she is a security risk," _a deep, strangely toned voice said.

"_Oh, hardly, Severus, she's just a little girl," _an older man's voice chimed in. It must have been the Albus mentioned before.

"_Yes, that would be the perfect identity, were someone to use a Polyjuice potion to intrude."_

"_What, and then toss themselves from a broomstick? You go find one and then come back here and tell me that girl didn't just fall from nothing!"_ the woman's voice said.

"_I have checked, and she is under no Polyjuice potion, nor a potion of any other sort. She is just a little girl who fell from the sky,"_ Albus said. I opened my eyes. The room was still dark, but I could see at least. A man with long white hair and a beard to match met my eyes. "Hello," he said, smiling. That was when I realized that I was on a bed. I sat up abruptly but felt a sharp pain in my head and fell backwards. I looked up at the ceiling. I rolled around a little bit, feeling something hard underneath me. I reached back and realized that I had my iPod in my back pocket. A lot of good that would do me here… Madam Pomfrey… Albus… Severus… didn't seem very modern technology oriented. It sounded more like they had spent a _little _too much time in Harry Potter Land. I sat right back up. Was this a joke? I looked at 'Severus Snape' and his black hair, with the face that looked exactly like Alan Rickman's. I then looked at Albus. That white beard was unmistakable.

"Holy Harry Potter," I said quietly, so that they wouldn't hear me. Albus… Dumbledore stepped toward me, until he had his hand on the foot of the bed.

"You had quite a fall," he said to me, still smiling. I sighed, pausing.

"How did I… how did I live?" I asked.

"It's beyond me… It appears you slowed your own fall," he told me. I remembered thinking briefly during my descent how I would have killed for an _Aresto Momento,_ at that moment.

"How would I do that?" I asked, deciding that freaking out would do me no good. It was probably all a dream. It didn't feel like a dream when I was falling, though.

"Obviously, you're a witch of some kind," Madam Pomfrey said in a matter-of-fact tone, messing with some things on the table next to the bed. I didn't bother to check what she was doing though.

"Where do you come from?" Dumbledore asked me. "We might be able to return you to your home." _I wish, _I thought. _I doubt they're here._

"I have no family," I lied. I would've sounded like a lunatic if I had told them the truth. Deep down, though, I was aching to see my annoying little brother again.

"I see," Dumbledore nodded. I could tell he knew that there was more to the story, but he obviously knew I had my reasons. "Severus," he said, turning to the man glowering at me from afar. "Send a message to the Weasley family, please. Via owl." As if Snape didn't know to use an owl…

"The Weasleys?" I asked. "Why?" I swallowed, forgetting that I shouldn't have sounded like I knew who they were. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice.

"Well, since you have nowhere to go, I'm sure the Weasleys would be happy to take you in." That was weird. He was just basically giving me to a family I had never actually met. Well, I had sort of met them. I had read about them… I _felt_ like I'd met them. Snape didn't move. He was waiting for something. Dumbledore spoke for him. "What is your name?" he asked me. It took me awhile to register, and I realized I'd forgotten my own name for a second.

"Alvane Matthews," I managed to say. I frowned at my stupidity. Who forgets their own name? You know, with the exception of Gilderoy Lockhart. Oops, spoiler.

"They will also need to know, sir, if she will be needing books," Snape said. _Books. _I just fell from the sky and they were already contemplating sending me to study magic.

"Books?" I asked what I was thinking.

"Miss Matthews, if you are going to stay with the Weasleys—depending what they say—it may be wise to consider studying magic. It is a good precaution in this world," Dumbledore said.

"Here?" I asked.

"Yes, here." It wasn't very often I got this chance.

"I'd love to," I said. I didn't care if this was a dream. Hogwarts in my dreams? Well, this dream felt real enough. I was actually extremely grateful to be away from Liverpool for a little while, even in a dream.

"That is fantastic to know. We will arrange it. And… if the Weasleys decide not to take you in, we could always send you to stay with the Dursleys," he joked. I smiled, hoping he wouldn't know that I actually got the joke.

"Wait, what's the date?" I asked.

"It's August 29th, 1992," he said. _No way. _

"You're not going to… start me as a first year, are you?" I asked. He looked surprised.

"Why, I'll see what I can do. Maybe we can get you some extra tutoring throughout the year, so that you can attend with the second years. Before you leave, however, I would like to sort you in my office." He turned to leave but looked back. "How did you know about the years?" he asked.

"Um, I just assumed. I mean, first year, as in… the beginning," I said slowly, squinting one eye confusedly. I smiled sheepishly, disguising my horrible lying skills. _Well,_ I thought. _Safe to say I'm no Slytherin._

I was wrong.

* * *

><p>Apparently… I <em>was <em>a Slytherin… At least according to that ridiculous singing hat. He seemed to find it greatly amusing to have placed me in that house. It seemed like he wanted me at Draco Malfoy's mercy. I didn't say that though. Best, when inside a book—or movie—not to mention people you haven't met yet. Although, if the Weasley's took me in, and I went with them to Diagon Alley, I would likely meet him in the confrontation that happened in the book. Actually, after looking at Snape, who looked exactly like Alan Rickman's portrayal of him, I was pretty darn sure I was in the movie. I fell through the book, and ended up in the movie. Yep, that is really logical. Well, there was still that confrontation to look forward to. I followed Snape out of Dumbledore's office. I felt that this was moving rather quickly. I also felt that Dumbledore knew something I didn't. Maybe this was part of a plan of his. I didn't understand it though. I didn't have time to try, because as soon as we stepped out of the office, I saw none other than a smiling Arthur Weasley standing there. I guess they said yes.

"Hi," I said. He looked down at me.

"Well, hi! You must be Alvane," he said, pronouncing my name 'Al-vain," instead of its proper pronunciation.

"Oh, it's 'Al-Vah-Nee,'" I corrected.

"Oh, my bad. It's hard to tell from a letter that doesn't talk." He looked as though he thought a silent letter was the most abnormal thing he had ever heard of. As we headed towards The Burrow, Mr. Weasley bombarded me with muggle questions; what do telephones do? Why can't people transform into animals? All very weird questions, but from reading the book, I knew for a fact that this was quite normal for this man. I was so busy answering his questions—or trying—I didn't notice the burrow until we bounced in contact with the ground. I had forgotten we were flying. I wasn't surprised that The Burrow looked like its movie self, but seeing it in real life was just weird. We walked through the door and I stood in the front room feeling out of place. I stuck my hands in my pockets and shifted from foot to foot.

"Hello!" two distinctive voices said in unison. I saw the two red haired twins towering over me. I'm kind of short, okay? I didn't really have to look up that much though.

"Hi," I said.

"I'm Fred," one of them said.

"And I'm George," the other one said. I smiled slightly.

"I'm Alvane," I said. I was glad they let me say my name instead of pronouncing it wrong.

"Nice name."

"Really different." I was amused by the way they talked as one person. This didn't show on my face however.

"You make me feel short," I teased. I hoped I hadn't overstepped, but luckily they smiled.

"You are short!" Fred said to me. I shrugged, jokingly. It was true. Two other familiar faces I had never met came down the stairs at that point. They looked surprised. Maybe they didn't know I was supposed to be here.

"Are you that girl that Dumbledore found?" Ron asked. Yes, I knew it was Ron. Obviously. I nodded, shyly. He smiled.

"Hi, I'm Ron and this is Harry!" he said. I looked over at the black haired boy. So they had already driven the car to his house and gotten chewed out. I didn't mention this.

"I'm Alvane," I said, getting tired of saying my name. "How many more times do you reckon I'll have to introduce myself?" I joked.

"The Weasley Clan is pretty big," Fred said from the table.

"So probably a few more times!" George finished. I bit my lip. I was becoming bored of my own name.

"The letter said you fell from the sky!" Ron said. "Is that true?" He seemed more excited about it than I was.

"Yeah, yeah, it's true. It was not as fun as it sounds though!" I told him.

"Well, where did you come from?" he asked. I wasn't sure how to respond. I fidgeted and stuttered a little bit.

"The-the sky," I said.

"You lived in the sky?" Harry asked, finally getting a word in.

"N-no…"

"So where did you come from before that?" Ron was now confused.

"I… don't remember," I lied. All of this lying… it was _not_ good for my conscience.

"Oh. Well, that's no good." I shook my head, in agreement.

"So, you're supposed to go to Hogwarts, aren't you?" Harry asked. I nodded.

"Professor Dumbledore said I would be over my head in tutoring and studying. I begged him not to start me as a first year, especially given the house I was… sorted into. It would have been instant mockery." I had to will myself not to speak anymore.

"Which house?" George hollered. I was worried now. I knew what everyone here thought of that house.

"Slytherin," I said. Ron's eyes widened in that look only he could do. I decided to try to lighten the mood. "Personally, I think that hat got a good laugh out of putting me there. I don't know why." More lying…

"Not a single good wizard has _ever_ come out of Slytherin," Ron said. I sighed.

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much more secure," I said.

"Sorry," he said, smiling, obviously to try to make me feel better.

"Maybe you'll be an exception!" Harry said.

"Yeah, you can be our ears on Malfoy!" Ron suggested. "He's in Slytherin. He's a total git."

"Again, making me feel so much better," I said. That was when I heard it.

"Hey, here comes Errol with the post!" said Percy, who was now sitting at the table. How come I didn't notice? A sympathetic look appeared on my face as the pathetic bird crashed into the window.

"Nice," I said. I was wondering why things hadn't gone the way they did in the movie. Why wasn't Arthur Weasley wondering who Harry was. Why weren't all of the Weasleys sitting at the table? Where was Ginny? Why wasn't Molly Weasley yelling? I guessed it was because the letter about me threw off the story a little bit. Harry looked just as surprised.

"Hey, they even have Alvane's Hogwarts letter!" George announced. "That was fast." He tossed it to me. I opened the envelope, but I honestly had no idea what I was looking at, nor did I really care.

"I don't actually have money. We're going to have a problem. I need sets of supplies for first years _and _second years!" I said. Molly Weasley, who had been standing near the stove, looked up. Like Percy, I hadn't noticed her, and I felt bad.

"Not to worry, dear. We'll take care of it. Dumbledore sent us some galleons for your supplies," she said. I looked at her apologetically. I didn't wish to cause extra trouble. "Well, there's only one place to get all of this. Diagon Alley," she said. I smiled, excited to see the place, but then winced. _Malfoy Confrontation, here we come._ It wasn't that I was afraid of Malfoy, but I had to be in the same house as him, for goodness sake.

* * *

><p>We all gathered near the fireplace. Mrs. Weasley was holding the pot of Floo Powder. I winced, knowing that Harry was going to end up in the wrong place. <em>Should I fix it or not?<em> I asked myself.

"Alvane and Harry, watch Ron so you can see how it's done," Mrs. Weasley said. I watched as Ron disappeared in the green fire. I already knew how to do it, but I turned to Harry.

"Remember, Harry—and I don't mean to sound like an expert—annunciate clearly. It's _diagon alley_, not _diagonally._" He nodded at me, as if he knew he was about to say it wrong. He stepped into the fireplace and took a handful of Floo Powder. I looked at him worriedly, but smiled when I heard him say it right.

"Diagon Alley!" he said. _Yes!_ I stepped into the fireplace.

"Diagon Alley!" I said, throwing down the Floo Powder. In just a few seconds, not only was I covered head to toe in dust (my hair had gone from straight, neat and brown to messy and dusty), but I saw Ron and Harry waiting for me.

"Thank goodness we all did it right!" Harry said. "Thanks for reminding me to say it that way. I am sure I would have done it wrong." I smiled.

"No problem." The rest of the Weasleys appeared in various green flames, all covered with the Floo Powder, including Ginny, who I had met that morning, but only long enough to exchange names. We made our way through Diagon Alley, until we came to, and entered the bookstore. This was the place where we were supposed to meet Gilderoy Lockhart—and Malfoy. I glanced up; just a little bit, where I saw Draco Malfoy—the spitting image of Tom Felton—standing on the upper deck, looking down. He had one of those scowls on his face. He didn't appear to see me. We made our way to the front of the crowd, where, as I expected, Lockhart stopped mid-self promotion to drag Harry up next to him for a photo opp.

"…Little did he know, he would in fact be leaving with my entire collected works… free of charge," he finished. I rolled my eyes. While I found this rather amusing, everyone else seemed to find it stupid. I smirked as Harry handed the pile of books off to Mrs. Weasley.

"I'll get these signed. Go on and wait outside," she said. Harry saw me smirking.

"Shut up," he said playfully. We walked towards the door. I slowed almost robotically, looking up at Malfoy, yanking a page from a book and shoving it in his pocket. We all soon stopped when Malfoy rounded in front of us.

"Potter," he spat. _Here it comes._ "Famous Harry Potter. Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page!" Ginny went to step to Harry's defense, but I pulled her back gently. I looked at her and mouthed _no._ She nodded. Then, my worst fear happened. "…And who is this?" Malfoy asked, turning to me. I pursed my lips nervously. "Is this your little girlfriend, Potter?" he asked. There you go. I had gotten the line meant for Miss Ginny. I didn't know, however, what I was supposed to say to him.

"I'm not his girlfriend," was all I said, calmly.

"Oh, right, just a fellow Gryffindor, I assume. Figures a friend of yours would end up with those bumbling idiots, Potter."

"I'm in Slytherin," I said, nervousness edging into my voice. Malfoy looked surprised.

"You are," he stated more than asked. "Well, then maybe you and I will get along."

"Maybe," I said, but I didn't believe it. I watched, unsurprised, as the silver end of Lucius Malfoy's cane hooked his son's shoulder.

"Now, now, Draco. Play Nicely," he said, in that condescending, fake tone only he had. I tugged on my too-tight red t-shirt, noticing that it was rolling up on me. I hated when that happened. "Mr. Harry Potter. Lucius Malfoy," he said, holding his hand out, which Harry took. "We meet at last. Forgive me." He pulled Harry in by his arm and used his cane to brush his hair aside, to see his scar. "Your scar is legend… as, of course, is the wizard who gave it to you."

"Voldemort killed my parents," Harry said softly. "He was nothing more than a murderer."

"Mm," Mr. Malfoy said calmly. "You must be very brave… to mention his name, or very foolish."

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," Hermione chimed in. He turned to her subtly.

"And you must be… Miss Granger," he said, looking for approval from his son, who nodded with a disgusted look on his face. "Yes, Draco's told me all about you, and your parents. Muggles… aren't they?" _Arrogant jerk._ Noticing Hermione's continually strong stance, not faltering, he turned his attention onto Ron and Ginny. "Let me see, red hair, vacant expressions, tatty second hand book. You must be the Weasleys." The way he said that name made me want to smack him across the face. He pulled a book from Ginny's bag. All of a sudden, Mr. Weasley appeared over our shoulders.

"Children, it's madness in here. Let's go outside!" he said.

"Well, well, Weasley Senior," Mr. Malfoy sneered.

"Lucius."

"Is it time at the Ministry, Arthur, all those extra raids. I do hope they're paying you overtime, but judging by the state of this, I'd say not. What's the use in being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

"We have a very different idea about what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."

"Clearly…" He paused to give us all a once over, obviously noticing me for the first time. "Associating with muggles," he said, shaking his head. He stepped forward and put the old book he had taken back into the Weasleys' bag, along with Tom Riddle's diary. Harry noticed the extra book as well, and didn't even mind when I managed to sneak it away from the bag and into mine. "And I thought your family could sink no lower." Mr. Weasley let out a small huff before smiling. He gave Mr. Malfoy one last suspicious glare. "I'll see you at work," was all Mr. Malfoy said before turning to walk away. Malfoy walked up to Harry. He looked at me and then glared at Harry and Ron.

"See you at school," he said, giving Ron a threatening glare.

* * *

><p>At the train station, one thing was bound to happen that I couldn't stop. I made sure to go through first with Fred, George and Percy, because I was in Slytherin, and if I got caught in that flying car with Ron and Harry, I would be expelled as soon as I got to Hogwarts. I sat in the same compartment as Ginny, knowing full well that Harry and Ron were probably wreaking havoc with that car. I knew how that worked out though, so I didn't bother to worry. Okay, that is a little inconsiderate, but I did know how it worked out. I was perfectly content in my little corner, staring out the window. Ginny wasn't a talker. She just sat looking at some books, trying to kill time. We both jumped when the compartment door swung to the side. I looked up to see Draco. So <em>this<em> is what happened on that train while Harry was falling out of a flying car. I gave him a look that urged him to explain himself.

"Hello, Weasley," he said to Ginny before turning to me and smiling that cunning, yet clearly ill intentioned smile. "I don't believe I got your name at the bookshop."

"Alvane," I told him.

"I'm—"

"Draco Malfoy. I know. I've been told." He nodded.

"I see. Curious."

"That I know your name?" I asked incredulously.

"No, that you seem to have appeared out of nowhere. Where did you come from?"

"I don't know."

"Word is that you fell from the sky."

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"So it isn't true then."

"I didn't say that."

"Well, then why shouldn't I believe it?"

"It's just a good life lesson." He took his attempt at goodness knows what further by stepping into the compartment and taking a seat next to Ginny—he didn't appear to like that.

"Yes, well, you should be more careful who you associate yourself with. That is a good life lesson."

"Do you take your own advice?"

"Of course."

"Well, if you're referring to the Weasley family, I can't very well avoid the people I live with." He scowled.

"Why don't you live with your own family?"

"I don't have one." It was a lie, but I was beginning to feel that it was true.

"So you chose the Weasleys?"

"I didn't _choose_ anyone, and I have another life lesson for you, Draco Malfoy. Be respectful."

"I do very well with that."

"So you think."

"Don't speak to me like that," he snapped.

"Treat others how you wish to be treated. Be respectful to others, I'll be respectful to you." He glared at me before standing up and leaving the compartment, making certain to slam the door. Ginny looked up from her book at me in awe.

"Nice job," she said.

"Yeah, well, you should be careful who you talk to like that, Little Miss," I said. She smiled. I was glad I was at least able to be a little helpful in my discomfort.


	4. Aguamenti

I knew what was going on during dinner (during which I didn't eat—I hated eating in front of people). Ron and Harry were getting a tongue-lashing from Snape, their rescue to which Dumbledore and McGonagall would soon rush, while I was stuck sitting next to Malfoy, who was loudly boasting about becoming seeker for the Slytherin House Team. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to my lap. There wasn't anything interesting in the room—even the ghosts had gotten boring—and looking down felt safest. Every attempt Draco made to address me, I shrugged off and turned away from. I could tell I was getting on his nerves but I didn't much care. He just didn't want to leave me alone—even in the Slytherin Common Room, where I sat with a sketch book in my lap. I hadn't drawn anything except for one line that I had erased. He sat on the couch opposing me.

"Hey, Matthews." Where had he learned my last name? I looked up slightly.

"My name is not Matthews."

"It's your last name, isn't it?"

"I prefer to be called by my first name."

"Yes, well, I've forgotten it."

"_Alvane,_" I said. I was getting irritated with him all too quickly, yes, but I had read all seven _Harry Potter_ books as well as seen all of the movies, and I knew more about him than he knew about himself, I knew how he turned out. I could change many little details in this world, which I had come to conclude was not a dream (if it was, it was quite vivid), but I could not change Draco Malfoy.

"Fine… Alvane," he said, purposely pronouncing it 'Al-Vain."

"I just told you how to pronounce it, _Draco,_" I said. "See, I can say your name without being stupid."

"It seems you know my name far too well, actually." It was true, I realized. After reading all of those books, I was too familiar with the name.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Go find Crabbe and Goyle for me," he ordered. I knew who they were, but I found it ridiculous that he thought I would know.

"No."

"You dare tell me no?"

"No," I repeated. His face scrunched up angrily. He huffed and stood up to find his lackeys by himself. I smiled to myself; my own personal victory.

* * *

><p>"Good morning, everyone!" Professor Sprout said, coming through the door and into the greenhouse. She tapped something I couldn't see on one of the many pots of mandrakes (I was the only one who knew that they were mandrakes, of course), to get the attention of the class. I was again stuck next to Mr. Malfoy, in all of his radiating arrogant glory. "Good morning, everyone!" she repeated, slightly louder. The class turned around.<p>

"Good morning, Professor Sprout!" everyone called back in unison. I didn't. Okay, I should have. But, I didn't.

"Welcome to Greenhouse 3, second years! Now gather round, everyone. Today, we're going to repot mandrakes," she explained, turning and picking up a pot. She turned back around and set it down in front of her. "Now, who here can tell me the properties of the mandrake root?" she asked. As expected, Hermione's hand shot up. I wanted to answer just as much as she did, so that I didn't look stupid, but I decided not to get on her bad side. "Yes, Miss Granger." Hermione smiled.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is used to return those who have been petrified to their original state." Professor Sprout nodded in approval. "It's also quite dangerous. The mandrake's cry is fatal to anyone who hears it."

"Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor," Professor Sprout said. I saw Harry and Ron smile at me. I smiled, too, but it quickly faded when Malfoy fixed me with a glare. Professor Sprout continued to explain. "Now, as our mandrakes are still only seedlings, their cries won't kill you yet. But they could knock you out for several hours, which is why I've given each of you a pair of earmuffs, for protection." She faltered on the last two words, when she noticed Malfoy's everlasting glare. I smirked. I was _glad_ to be getting on his nervesm, I decided. "Put them on right away!" she continued. "Quickly." I did so, as well as all of the class. "Flaps tight down." I felt ridiculous, but everyone was wearing them so I didn't feel _so_ stupid. "Now watch me closely. You grasp your mandrake firmly. You pull it straight up out of the pot." I faintly heard the mandrake's piercing squeal as I (and all of the other students) reached up and pressed my earmuff flaps into my ears. "…And _now_." Professor Sprout promptly placed the mandrake into its pot and began shoveling dirt over it. "…Down in the other pot." I could barely hear some words because of the muffs. "Pour a little… soil." Suddenly (well, not really all that suddenly for _me_) Neville collapsed to the floor. Everyone's attention turned to him. "Ah, Longbottom's been neglecting his earmuffs." I saw Malfoy smirk, and then Seamus turned away from the passed out Neville to look at the professor.

"No, ma'am, he's just fainted." I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, well… just leave him there. Right, on we go." _Nice, Professor Sprout,_ I thought. Poor Neville. "Plenty of pots to go around! Grasp your mandrake, and pull it up!" Great, no way to cover my ears now. I was lucky to not pass out. I looked over to my left, at Malfoy, who prodded his mandrake a little before sticking his finger in its mouth. I looked at him and cocked my eyebrows. He didn't have much time to glare back as he was too busy yanking his finger away from the biting roots. He glared at the mandrake rather than me.

* * *

><p>During dinner, I stood up and managed to make it over to Ron, Harry and Hermione at the Gryffindor table (albeit, with Malfoy hollering after me asking where I was going... which I ignored). I watched as Ron wrapped clear tape around his now useless wand.<p>

"Say it," he said. "I'm doomed." Harry and I gave him a sympathetic look.

"You're doomed," we said together, and it wasn't because I knew Harry was going to say it.

All of a sudden, "Hi, Harry!" There was an instantly recognizable flash of light. "I'm Colin Creevey! I'm in Gryffindor, too!"

"Hi, Colin, nice to meet you," Harry said, at a decibel level much quieter than Colin's. "Say, do you think your friend here could take a photo of you and me standing together? You know, to prove I've met you. It's for my dad. He's a milkman, you know, a muggle. Like all our family's been until me. No one knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic until we got our letter from Hogwarts. Everyone just thought I was mental."

"Imagine that," Ron nodded, with a patronizing smile. Just as he was cocking an eyebrow at one of his brothers, though, Dean Thomas looked up.

"Ron, is that your owl?" he asked. We all looked up. Sure enough, it was Errol. The wreck of an animal was cruising straight for us. And then, WHAM! Food was scattered about, and Ron eyed the bird embarrassed.

"Bloody bird's a menace," he said. There was a chorus of laughter. I looked back and shot Malfoy a death glare, which he gladly returned. Errol flapped back up to a standing position and flew off, ruffling Colin's hair as he passed by. "Oh, no." Ron had a look of horror on his face as he held the red envelope in his hands. Seamus looked around the table, amused.

"Look, everyone, Weasley's got himself a Howler!" he announced. I was still embarrassed at the thought that Errol might have to deliver _my _mail. As an afterthought, _thank goodness I don't know anyone._ Ron looked at Seamus and the rest of the Great Hall, his horrified expression still there.

"Go on, I ignored one from my Gran once," Neville put in. "It was horrible." Ron turned over the envelope and struggled to open it without shaking. As soon as he opened it:

_Ronald Weasley!_

Ron dropped the letter on the table and retreated with his hands. The letter flew up from the surface of the table and turned into an ugly red mouth. It began speaking with Mrs. Weasley's voice.

_How dare you steal that car? I am absolutely disgusted! Your father's now facing an inquiry at work, and it's entirely your fault! If you put another _toe_ out of line, we'll bring you straight home!_

The letter turned away from Ron and to Ginny, down the table, now giving the best smile an envelope could manage.

_Oh, and Ginny, dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud._

Ginny looked around awkwardly at being included in this bizarre letter. Finally, the letter turned back to Ron, stuck out a tongue that I wasn't sure where it came from, and tore itself to pieces. Everyone gave Ron looks of sympathy (with the exception of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle).

* * *

><p>Everyone looked up at the sound of a door opening and closing. Gilderoy Lockhart came strolling down the stairs from his office, to the front of the class. I rolled my eyes, knowing the man so well, but I was also nervous about those dreaded Cornish Pixies.<p>

"Let me introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher." He obviously wanted a dramatic pause there, before he followed with, "Me," rather nonchalantly. Everyone gave him skeptical looks. "Gilderoy Lockhart." He made it to the bottom of the stairs, still with a stupid grin plastered on his face. "Order of Merlin, First Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five time winner of _Witch Weekly_'s Most Charming Smile Award." I didn't look up from my desk; firstly because I was sitting next to Crabbe, and secondly because I didn't want to see all of the girls swooning in their desks. Of course, I knew that all of this Professor's boasting was nothing more than tripe, but I was the only one, so I could say nothing. "But I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Banded Banshee by smiling at it." He laughed, 'modestly.' Finally, he noticed that almost no one was responding, so he quickly continued. "I see you've all bought the complete collection of my works. Well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz." For the first time, I exchanged an agreeing look with Crabbe; _what a nut-bar..._ "Nothing to worry about; just to check how well you've read them." He handed two papers to Hermione and her partner. As he walked away, the two girls looked at each other and began whispering about him. Ron gave him a fake smile upon receiving the test. I didn't bother to smile. I just took it, eyebrow raised. He went back to the front of the class after passing them all out. "You have thirty minutes. Start… now!" Everyone picked up their quills. I guessed that most people had just given the best answers they could think of, not even tried, or given some sarcastic answer, like Draco and myself.

_What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color? __It's good to know that when I'm being attacked by Dark Magic, all I need to do is tell my opponent that Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color is Lilac, and I'll be left alone._

Yes, that was my _actual_ answer. What? It wasn't that rude. Okay, it was, but it was absolutely true. After shaming the class for not knowing half the answers, and praising Hermione for her remembrance of his favorite color _and_ his secret ambition, he turned to look at me. He didn't know what to say. I lifted up my shoulders in a tongue-in-cheek manner.

"Very… whimsical, Miss Matthews," he told me. "'It's good to know,'" he began to quote, "'that when I'm being attacked by Dark Magic, all I need to do is tell my opponent that Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color is Lilac… and I'll be left… alone," he finished deflated. There was a collection of chuckles at my comment. "Yes, well, at least you got the question correct." He let out a loud sigh, as if I the fact that I only knew one answer (which I answered rather cynically) was a sin to the wizarding world. "Yes, well… Now! Be warned! It is my job to arm you against the most feared creatures of the wizarding world. You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. I must ask you not to scream. It might… provoke them!" He yanked the red cloth off of the cage, which had begun shaking, to reveal the little blue pixies bouncing about their confines. They let out squeals and little pixie shouts. The class let out a unified huff of disbelief.

"Cornish Pixies?" Seamus smirked.

"Freshly caught Cornish Pixies!" the Professor said. Seamus chuckled and looked around. "Laugh if you will, Mr. Finnigan. The pixies can be devilishly tricky little things. Let's see what you make of them." He opened the cage, releasing the angry little blue fairies on the unsuspecting second year class. I quickly attempted to duck around my desk, during which, somehow, Malfoy managed to grab hold of my arms from behind and use me as a shield.

"Draco, no!" I shouted as the blue blurs began to mess with me; flipping my hair about and tugging on my clothes—poking and prodding me. Luckily, using me as a shield wasn't working so well for him as they could just fly around and get at him from behind. He pushed up against my desk, in an effort to escape, but all he ended up doing was knocking himself on the floor. I knew it was a nice thing to do, but he was screaming and freaking out, so I helped him stand back up. Finally, I pushed him away from me and he ran for the door. Soon it was only me, Harry, Ron and Hermione (and Neville hanging from the chandelier) left in the room, seeing as Lockhart had told us to 'nip the rest of them back into their cage,' and then run off like a little girl. I watched as Harry whacked a pixie off of Hermione's hair with a book, before shooting the first spell I could think of up at the pixies trying to knock down the dinosaur skeleton hanging from the ceiling. A lot of good that did… "_Stupify!_" I shouted. CRASH! The dinosaur came down and scattered all over the room. Ron looked at me confusedly.

"Who shoots that spell at a ceiling decoration?" he shouted over the noise.

"Me!" I shouted back. "It was all I could think of!"

"Think of something else!"

"Ron!"

"_Immobilus!_" Hermione shouted. The pixies all froze in midair, looking around mystified. Harry and Hermione had the same looks on their faces when they saw the dinosaur.

"My aim is not that good, okay?"

"Why is it always me?" Neville asked incredulously from the chandelier.

* * *

><p>"I thought you were only supposed to use <em>Stupify <em>on people, not chains," Ron said, for the _billionth _time.

"I already explained this. It was the first thing I thought of and my aim isn't very good!" I replied.

"Where did you even learn that?"

"I _read._" We looked up to the sound of the Gryffindor House Quidditch Team coming through the courtyard. Call me stupid, but I forgot what came next. I looked across the courtyard and saw the Slytherin Team coming through as well. _Oh, now I remember,_ I thought. The teams met in the middle and Flint and Wood exchanged glares.

"_Where do you think you're going, Flint_?" Wood asked. I could barely hear them, so I had to listen closely. You can't expect me to remember everything. "_I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today."_

"_Easy Wood, I've got a note_," Flint said pompously. He handed a folded piece of paper over to Wood, who took it with a glare.

"Here comes trouble," I said, beating Ron to the punch. We all stood up and made our way over.

"'_I, Professor Severus Snape, do hereby give the Slytherin Team permission to practice today, according to the need to train their new seeker_,'" Wood read. He looked up promptly. "You've got a new seeker, who?" As if on cue, the team separated so that Draco could make his way to the front, smiling devilishly.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, disbelieving.

"That's right, and that's not all that's new this year," Malfoy replied. He and the rest of the team shifted their brooms around, obviously showing off.

"Those are Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones!" Ron said. "How did you get those?"

"A gift from Draco's father," Flint said, his crooked teeth causing him to lisp.

"You see, Weasley, unlike some, my father can afford the best," Draco said. I rolled my eyes as Hermione stepped forward.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to_ buy_ their way in. _They_ got in on pure talent," she told him. Draco frowned and turned to her.

"No one asked your opinion," Draco began. "You filthy little mudblood."

"You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" Ron said. He began pulling out his wand.

"Oh, Ron, goodness, no!" I exclaimed, grabbing his wrist. He looked at me.

"Why not?" he asked.

"It's taped together," I said. "You need to replace it before you try to curse anyone." Malfoy turned his scowl on me.

"What, are you his girlfriend, now?" he asked, rudely.

"_Obsessed_," I spat. It was the second time he had asked if I was someone's girlfriend.

"I am not," he replied.

"Well, then why do you care whose girlfriend I am?"

"I don't."

"Then don't ask."

"You're right. I'll just assume you are since you didn't say no."

"I'm not."

"I thought you didn't care what I thought."

"No, I don't. I just like irritating you."

"You're not. You can't make me do anything." I gave him a fake smile and pulled out my wand, Teakwood with Coco Shell inlay, enchanted by essence of Dragon Fire. My favorite thing about it was the checkered handle.

"_Aguamenti,_" I said. A stream of water shot from the tip of my wand and hit him straight in the face. "No, I can't make you do anything." I quickly turned on my heel while he was recovering from shock, so as to get away before he could return my attack. Hermione, Harry, and Ron soon followed in suit. After we'd made it some distance, we began to talk.

"_Wow_," Ron said. "That was brilliant! You're no Slytherin!"

"Told you so," I said, smiling. "There's one exception to every rule!"

"That's for sure!" Harry said. Hermione still looked bothered, but not as bothered as before. "We should go tell Hagrid!" We began running towards the hut. Really, I was just following. Eventually, Harry called back to me, "Hagrid is the gamekeeper. He's really great." I had forgotten that I hadn't met Hagrid yet.

* * *

><p>"Hagrid, it's us!" Harry shouted through the door. Soon enough, the big wooden door opened and we all stepped inside. I knew what Hagrid looked like, but seeing him up close was different. I tried my best to hide my shock.<p>

"Hey, there, you four," Hagrid said without thinking. Finally, he noticed me. "Four. Now who are you?"

"I'm Alvane," I said. He held out his hand to shake, and I took it. After we'd both pulled away, he noticed my green tie and Slytherin crest.

"You're in Slytherin," he said, sounding slightly bothered by the fact.

"Not really!" Ron said. Hagrid looked surprised. "She just got Malfoy, good!"

"Yeah, it was great," Harry said.

"Now, what'd you do that for?" Hagrid asked.

"He called Hermione a… Mudblood… and then Ron tried to hex him. We got into an argument so I shot a jet of water in his face. Then we ran off," I explained.

"He called her a _what_? Serves him right then!" Hagrid said.

"What's a mudblood?" Harry asked.

"It's a derogatory term for muggle-borns," I explained. I knew I wasn't supposed to be acting like I knew these things, but it didn't stop me.

"It's not a term one usually hears in civilized conversation," Hermione explained.

"Aw, come now. Not a wizard now or ever's thought of a spell our Hermione can't do!" Hagrid said. Hermione blushed. "Come here," he said. She walked over to him. "Don't you think on it, Hermione. Don't you think on it." Overall, this was a good moment. Hermione's spirits were lifted; Ron and Harry thought I was the coolest Slytherin ever; I felt triumphant over Draco; and Ron wasn't puking up slugs. Overall, a very productive day. It would have been great if I hadn't had to answer to Malfoy later.

* * *

><p>I looked up to see Draco standing over me with a rather strained looking grimace on his face. Why had I decided on the common room.<p>

"Are you in pain, or something, Draco?" I asked. I sounded rather snide, yes, but most of our conversations (no, all) had been unpleasant so I wasn't in the mood to be nice.

"Shut up," he snapped.

"Really? Who could tell?"

"I don't know who you think you are, but you had better learn to respect your superiors, _Matthews._" He said my name with venom.

"What? You? Oh, well, then you should know that I have an acute anti-authority complex," I said.

"Wait until my father hears about you. You'll be out of here fast as you fell from the clouds."

"You don't have that say-so."

"Want to bet?"

"What? You think your daddy can bribe the ministry into expelling me? Unfortunately, Dumbledore is the one with that say so, seeing as I'm a special case." I didn't know if that was true, but if Malfoy believed it, that was good enough for me. _You have got to stop lying,_ I told myself. The look on Draco's face said that he believed it.

"I gave you chances, you know."

"Chances to what?"

"You could've been _my _friend… Instead you chose _Potter_."

"You don't know the meaning of the word 'friend,' Draco," I said, now trying to be a little polite (but not too much).

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that a friend is not someone you get to order around and bully. A friend is someone you… well, you're nice to them, and they're nice to you. You don't tell them what to do, and they'll do things for you out of the goodness of their hearts."

"Is that the conditions of your friendship?"

"Why would you want to be my friend?"

"Because Slytherins should stand up for each other." Ah, that was it. I was in Slytherin so I was obliged to belong to him.

"Great job you've done of that… but, no. Those aren't my conditions." I stood up from the couch. "If you're really so keen on being friends—my kind of friends, not yours—understand this. I'm a human being, just like you. You can _suggest_ what you want me to do, but I don't have to do it. I have independent thinking. Also, I _demand _your respect. You respect me, I'll respect you."

"What about Potter and his posse?"

"I can be friends with whomever I choose, you can't make that decision for me, but if it helps, I won't take any sides in your stupid fighting." Don't think badly of me. I wasn't trying to befriend Draco Malfoy over some Tom Felton crush, or Random Acts of Kindness. But I figured it was better to be on his good side than on his bad. Draco was right; his dad _did_ have a lot of power. I didn't want that lurking behind me all the time. Draco looked as though he was contemplating whether to believe my proposal or not.

"Fine."


	5. Job Here

Harry wasn't at dinner, but I did know where he _was_. Poor Harry, having to answer Gilderoy Lockhart's fan mail. But at least he didn't have to sit next to Draco Malfoy, who was acting almost exactly the same, with the exception of not telling me what to do _as much. _Finally, bored of listening to him brag, I stood up and followed Ron and Hermione to the Entrance Hall.

"What's taking Harry so long?" Ron mused, more to the air than us.

"Oh, you know Lockhart, with his ridiculous 'page-turners' and his everlasting piles of fan mail. He probably has poor Harry answering it for him," I suggested. Of course that was what he was doing. I was just thankful that there would be no 'writing on the wall.'

"Oh, come now," Hermione said. "He's not famous for nothing, you know. Have you read his books? Oh, the things he's done!" A dreamlike smile spread across her face.

"Hermione, you don't even know if half of what he says is true! It could be utter rubbish that he stole from other wizards." I replied.

"Oh, no one would put that much work into something like that."

"Oh, they wouldn't? He's internationally famous, and has girls of all ages throwing themselves at his feet! The pros far outweigh the cons!"

"Alvane."

"Hermione."

"Harry!"

"_What_?"

"Harry!" Hermione repeated, pointing. Sure enough, Harry Potter was walking quickly towards us. He looked in a hurry.

"Did you hear it?" he asked.

"Hear what?" Ron asked.

"That voice!"

"Voice? What voice?" Hermione asked.

"I heard it first in Lockhart's office, and then again just…" His voice trailed off.

"Oh, no," I muttered. No one seemed to hear me.

"It's moving," Harry said morbidly. "I think it's going to kill."

"Kill?" Ron asked, now frightened. Ron and Hermione followed him as he took off down the hall. I, however, didn't go after them. I ran the other direction, towards my room. I tore through the Slytherin Common Room and into the Girl's Dormitory. Just as I had thought, my bed and possessions were scattered about. I looked inside my trunk, in which I had put the diary and locked shut. It was gone. I ran off back towards the hall where Harry, Ron and Hermione had run. There was a crowd ahead of me. I pushed through it until I came to the front, behind Malfoy, who had a slight look of glee on his face. Filch stood there, gaping at his cat Mrs. Norris (even though she was a highly unpleasant cat, I couldn't help but feel bad).

"Oh, goodness," I said. Draco looked back at me.

"Who cares? It's just a cat," he whispered. I socked him in the arm without thinking. He let out a yelp of pain that went unnoticed.

"Mrs. Norris?" Filch mumbled. "You've… murdered my cat," he said to Harry.

"No, no," Harry said quietly.

"I'll kill you," Filch said. "I'll kill you!"

"_Argus!_" Albus Dumbledore came through one of the crowds, followed by McGonagall and Snape. "Argus, I…" He then saw the wall.

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.**

"Everyone," Dumbledore began again, "will proceed to their dormitories immediately… everyone except… you three," he said, motioning to Harry, Ron and Hermione. I reluctantly followed after Malfoy to the Slytherin Dormitory. I spent the rest of the night repairing the damage to my belongings.

* * *

><p>"<em>It's a bit strange, isn't it<em>?" I heard Hermione's voice from down the staircase.

"_Strange_?" Harry asked. I bounded down the stairs and met them on a landing. They looked at me, and we continued the conversation.

"You hear this voice, a voice only you can hear, and then Mrs. Norris turns up petrified," Hermione said. "It's just… strange…"

"Do you think I should've told them? Dumbledore and the others, I mean."

"Are you mad?" Ron asked dubiously.

"No, Harry," Hermione said. "Even in the wizarding world, hearing voices isn't a good sign." Harry looked to me for a third opinion.

"I agree. Telling them is probably not a good idea," I said. "Snape is already suspicious as is... I mean, just as a _general rule_. If you tell him you're hearing voices…" I bit my lip. "I think that, however, is the last thing we need to concern ourselves with."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Remember that book I took, Harry? The one Mr. Malfoy dropped into Ginny's cauldron, behind the other book?"

"Yeah."

"What book?" Hermione and Ron asked in unison. They exchanged awkward glances but soon looked at us again.

"Remember when we were in Diagon Alley, in Flourish and Blotts, and Draco and his dad were talking to us? Well, when Mr. Malfoy went to put Ginny's old book back into her cauldron, there was another book behind it—one that hadn't _been_ there before."

"What was it?"

"I don't know," I lied.

* * *

><p>"Could I have your attention, please?" Professor McGonagall called at the front of the class. We all shifted in our seats before giving her our attention. "Right," she began. "Now, today we will be transforming animals into water goblets… like so." She pointed her wand to a black and white bird on a perch next to her. "1… 2… 3… <em>Fereverto<em>," she said. The bird turned into a clear substance (maybe water, would make sense) before morphing into a shiny silver goblet. There was a chorus of 'whoa' and 'ah.' Even my eyes widened a little. "Now it's your turn." I thought, to myself of course that she sounded a little on edge—no doubt about the chamber. She walked down the steps from her desk. "Now, who would like to go first? Ah, Mr. Weasley." She stepped over to Ron and Harry's desk. "1, 2, 3, _fereverto._" Ron nodded semi-confidently, and turned down to Scabbers. He cleared his throat and counted silently with his wand.

"_Fereverto,_" he said finally. The rat did turn into a goblet, yet a very hairy one with a tail. There were a couple chuckles in the room. Even Harry smiled. Ron looked confusedly at his rat-cup, picking it up and turning it around.

"That wand needs replacing, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall told him, walking away. I looked back at him and mouthed 'nice try.' He shrugged, downheartedly. Hermione raised her hand, next to me. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Professor, I was wondering if you could tell us about… the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked. Everyone's attention was soon on their teacher, who sighed.

"Oh, very well," she said, looking around. "Well, you all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age; Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Now, three of the founders coexisted quite harmoniously. One did not."

"Three guesses who," Ron joked. McGonagall gave a discreet nod.

"Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed magical learning should be kept within all magic families. In other words… purebloods." I looked back to see Draco's gaze shift to Hermione, a look of contempt on his face. She returned his glare with a teacher-like look. "Unable to sway the others," McGonagall continued, "he decided to leave the school. Now, according to legend, Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in this castle, known as the Chamber of Secrets. Though, shortly before departing, he sealed it, until that time when his own true heir returned to the school. The heir alone would be able to open the Chamber and unleash the horror within, and by so doing, purge the school of all those who, in Slytherin's view, were unworthy to study magic."

"Muggle-borns," Hermione said knowingly. McGonagall nodded.

"Well, naturally the school has been searched many times. No such chamber has been found." She started up the steps to her desk.

"Professor," I called quickly, before Hermione could. What can I say? I wanted to look like I wanted to learn. I did want to learn. McGonagall turned around.

"Yes, Miss Matthews?"

"What exactly… does legend tell us is the 'horror within' the chamber?" I asked.

"Well, the chamber," she said, "Is said to be the home to something that only the Heir of Slytherin can control. It is said… to be the home… of a monster." Ron looked back at Draco, suspicious now.

* * *

><p>"Do you think it's true?" Ron asked as we walked down the hall. "Do you think there really is a Chamber of Secrets?"<p>

"Of course there is!" I said. I quite enjoyed beating Hermione to the punch actually, but I did want to be careful not to overstep. "McGonagall sounded terrified just talking about it, just like every teacher!" I said. "With the exception of Lockhart," I added as an afterthought.

"Well, if there really is a Chamber of Secrets, a-and it really has been opened, then that means—" Harry was cut off.

"The Heir of Slytherin has returned to Hogwarts. The question is, who is it?" Hermione said. I began speaking before Ron could even think.

"It's not Malfoy," I said quickly.

"Of course it is! You heard him—'You'll be next, mudbloods…' Don't tell me you're friends with the guy, now!"

"Draco and I have… made our peace, but that's not why I'm saying it's not him."

"Maybe he's right, Alvane. Look at Malfoy's family! The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin for centuries," Harry said.

"Crabbe and Goyle must know!" Ron suggested.

"No. Whatever you're thinking, no." I turned to Hermione, and continued. "No Polyjuice potions, no masquerading as Crabbe and Goyle. No."

"How did you know I was thinking that?" Hermione asked.

"I was tested for Polyjuice when I was passed out in the hospital wing," I explained. "I know what it does, and it would be the perfect plan... definitely something _you_ would think of, Hermione, but no."

"Well, then, how else are we going to find out?" Ron asked.

"Remember, Ron? At the house you said I could be your ears on Malfoy. He and I have come to a truce. Let _me_ ask him. If that doesn't work, brew to your heart's content." Of course it would work. Even if it didn't, I knew that Malfoy wasn't the heir, so I could always say he'd told me anyway. "Now, I strongly suggest that from now on, we refrain from discussing this _loudly_ in the corridors."

* * *

><p>I was not too surprised when I ran into Hermione in the library, looking up brews for Polyjuice potion. It wasn't because she thought it was a great plan, or wanted to break the rules, but she didn't like being told she was wrong… something <em>I<em> had done.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" I asked, exasperatedly. I leaned over her shoulder and looked at the book. "Polyjuice potion? Hermione!"

"What? I'm just saying it's a good backup plan!" she said, matter-of-factly, standing up.

"Okay, but you don't need it. I'm sure I can get Malfoy to tell me."

"And what if you can't, Alvane?"

"Then you can brew your potion. Just give me the chance."

"I am giving you the chance, but it's not like Malfoy to automatically trust someone just because he's called a truce! He could be up to something."

"Oh, I'm _sure_ he's up to something. He's always up to something. But it's nothing I can't handle, and I would prefer it if you would at least give me a big enough vote of confidence to put that book _away_." We engaged in a stare-off until we realized that neither was going to falter. She placed the book down on a table and began to walk out with me.

"Fine. Just be careful. He's sneaky, cunning. That's why he's in Slytherin."

"Well, _I'm_ sneaky and cunning. That's why I'm in Slytherin."

"Good point." I stopped walking when we reached the entrance hall.

"Hermione, I have something I have to go do," I said. "Then, I'll go see what I can get out of Malfoy." She nodded and met Harry and Ron at the top of the stairs. The two boys waved and started to walk off with Hermione. I waved back and quickly took off up another staircase, towards Dumbledore's office. I ran into McGonagall in one of the halls.

"Hello, Miss Matthews," she nodded, and continued walking. I chose then to remember.

"Uh, Professor!" I called after her. She turned around.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I need to see Professor Dumbledore," I said sheepishly. "I heard there's a password to his office, and I'm afraid I don't know what it is… or… _where_ it is." She analyzed me for a second.

"What is it you need, Matthews?" she asked finally.

"It's about… how I got here, actually. It's kind of urgent." She nodded, understanding and began to lead me to Dumbledore's office. Finally, we stopped at a large hippogriff gargoyle. "Sherbet Lemon," McGonagall said quietly. The Gargoyle turned and turned, until a spiral staircase appeared. "You may go on up alone." She waved me to the staircase with her hand, and I started up. I almost felt dizzy upon reaching the top, but didn't have time to recover, as Dumbledore immediately asked what it was that I needed.

"Um, sir, I was just wondering," I began, after a pause.

"You were wondering why I let you come to Hogwarts, given the suspicious nature of your arrival here," he finished for me. I opened my mouth to speak, but instead just nodded. "As soon as you asked me if I was going to start you as a first year, I could tell that you knew more about this world than you told me. You're not a very good liar." I bit my lip. "I know that you pose no threat. You are just confused, am I right?" he asked. I nodded. He continued. "I won't ask you where you've come from. I don't believe it's of _immediate_ importance, until we find a way to return you to there. For now, I think it is best if you continue as you are."

"Of course, sir, but… I'm afraid that if I get too attached to this world, I may not want to go back. I love my family, you see—well, really only my brother… he's eight… my parents aren't really around much. I mostly live with a nanny. It doesn't bother me though." I realized I was blathering. "Um, my point is that I have friends here. If I have to choose… well, I don't know _what_ I would choose. I know I haven't been here long, but it is so much more amazing and spontaneous here, and I feel like I could find a place here, as where, I never really had one back _home_." It was the first time I had said that word in that context since I landed in the grass outside Hogwarts.

"I understand, Miss Matthews, and when and if the time comes for you to make a choice, it will be completely yours." I turned to leave at this, but looked back suddenly.

"Professor," I said. "There's something else that's been bothering me as well."

"Yes?"

"Well, why… If I came from a different world, one where… none of _this_ existed, then how come I had magic?" I asked. He looked at me thoughtfully. He was a wise man, but I didn't expect him to know for sure.

"Perhaps you are here for a reason, other than just by chance. You said yourself that you felt like you could find a place here for yourself, and maybe that is _why_ you are here. Maybe you are here because you belong here, rather than there… or because you have a _job_ to do here." I squinted confusedly. I thanked the Headmaster and turned back down the stairs.

* * *

><p>I found Malfoy alone in the Common Room.<p>

"Matthews," he greeted. He still hadn't gotten past calling me by my last name. I assumed it was probably because he kept forgetting my first name every five minutes.

"Malfoy," I replied. If he was going to call me by my last name, I wasn't going to do him any favors.

"You look bothered," he said. Way to state the obvious.

"Oh, it's nothing." I turned as if I was about to leave but then turned back. "Draco." He looked up from the small package he had been looking at. As I stepped closer he began to pick at the ribbon tying it shut.

"Yes?"

"I was just wondering if you knew anything about the… Heir of Slytherin?" _Please don't get mad at me, please don't get mad at me._

"Not a thing."

"Really?" I asked more disbelievingly than I should have.

"Did you expect me to?"

"Well, yeah. Your family has been in this house for centuries."

"What do you know of my family?" Whoops, too much said.

"It's just something I heard. It's true, though, isn't it?" He nodded.

"Well, it's like I said, Matthews. I don't know about the Heir of Slytherin." I nodded, turning around and leaving. When I entered the corridor, I remembered that I already knew he wasn't the heir, so why was I so surprised when he said _no_? _Oh, you're getting stupid, Alvane,_ I told myself. I set off down the hallway.


End file.
